Page 18 of Love at Teamsgiving
Erica points between us. “And you called her sweetheart.”
The engaged couple exchange a look that I can only take to mean one thing: they’re banking on having a happy marriage compared to the two of us.
Yeah, we tried that. Didn’t work out. Biggest regret of my life, not that I’d tell Junie that.
Erica wears a dreamy expression and then rests her head on Shane’s shoulder. “There are all kinds of love. Some of it burns hotter than others.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Junie asks.
Erica and Shane exchange another look like they can already read each other’s minds.
He says, “The two of you practically finish each other’s sentences.”
“Yeah, right,” I retort.
“We do not,” Junie says.
Shane adds, “I was afraid this was a terrible idea. But maybe throwing logs on the fire isn’t so bad.”
“Please make it work,” Erica adds.
Her fiancé claps the table as if that’s settled. “We’ll be in touch with all the wedding planning info.” He kisses Erica on the temple. “See you for dinner?”
Her cheeks turn pink and she smiles.
I find myself staring at how adorable they are, how in love without the vitriol, the conflict, and the need for a fire extinguisher, lest they put the surrounding customers at risk for loss of life or third-degree burns.
Shane tips his head in my direction, meaning I’m to go with him, and we exit the way we came.
“I guess I’ll be going too,” I say.
Junie says, “This isn’t the subway station. You don’t have to announce your departure.”
“Classic Junie snark. I missed it,” I say dryly.
She harrumphs.
When I reach the door, I glance over my shoulder and wink, erasing the faint smile on her lips.
The thing is, Junie and I hardly scratched the surface of our story. But being around her again, with the promise of more, isn’t the worst plan. In fact, I’m looking forward to it the same way I do a game against a rival team.
At least it’ll be interesting.
CHAPTER FIVE
I wonderif I’m the first maid of honor in history to be tasked with helping plan the wedding alongside my ex, who happens to be the groom’s best man.
Mom is at her afternoon canasta game and Erica helps me finish packing. The moving truck will arrive first thing in the morning and our flight to Eppley in Omaha leaves at eleven.
Last month, Margo helped me find a place to live, make some connections, and, of course, scope out a location for my dream salon.
Erica’s phone rings with a video call from Margo—wedding planner extraordinaire and the mastermind behind my move to Cobbiton.
They chat about the proposal last night as Erica sends her photos, and Margo comments about missing New York—but not too much. My attention fades when they discuss the wedding.
Margo encouraged me to make a change. Then, when she found love in the most unlikely place, the gentle pressure turned into prodding. Most recently, she threatened to come here with the hockey team and drag me west kicking and screaming if she had to.
You might say I’ve been a bit discontent and my friends have had enough of my wallowing, complaining, and general cloudy-day attitude.
